


Staying Late

by vials



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, James is mentioned extensively but isn't actually present, Unrequited Love, it's just a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After James's departure following the SPECTRE mess, Q finds himself working late a lot. He puts his rough days down to stress and sleep deprivation, until a late night discussion with Eve forces him to admit the truth -- that it's always been about James.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staying Late

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic brought over from my Tumblr (v1als)!

“I take it this means you’re staying late tonight?”

Q was surprised to hear the voice came from directly behind him. He jumped slightly, swivelling around in his seat, and saw that Eve had been standing just a few feet away. He hadn’t even heard her crossing the concrete floor, despite the fact her heels would have made plenty of noise.

“What means I’m staying late tonight?” he asked, trying to cover up the fact that his heart was still racing. He resisted the temptation to turn and check that the security screens displayed next to his laptop were working correctly – he could think of no other reason to explain how he had been so oblivious.

“You seemed pretty engrossed,” Eve said, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Though, I have to wonder how long you can stare at the same screen, before there’s nothing left to take in.”

For the first time, Q wondered just how long she’d been standing there.

“Oh,” he said turning back and glancing at the screen. Luckily nothing too incriminating had been on it. He also saw that the security screens were working correctly, much to his discomfort.

“Shall I leave you to it?” Eve asked, and Q finally remembered how to act like a semi-normal human being.

“No, no,” he said, turning his seat back around and quickly gathering a few spare papers into a pile. “It’s fine, I was zoning out, I think. Busy few days. Probably about time I headed home at a normal hour.”

He closed the laptop over and unplugged the cables from its sides, sliding it into its case along with the papers and then throwing the strap over his shoulder.

“My coat is back in my lab,” he said to Eve, who had been waiting patiently. “So if we just run down there, we can be off.”

“I checked there first, but obviously didn’t find you,” Eve said, as they began walking back through the larger lab behind them. It was eerily silent now, all the workstation desktops on standby and the half-formed skeletons of vehicles littered around.

“I probably should have warned you I wouldn’t be there,” Q said. “Generally you’ll find me on one of the central floors now.”

“Any reason?” Eve asked.

“I suppose I just like being closer to the action,” Q said. “I feel a little more accessible, sitting on the floors themselves. I like to know what’s going on.”

“Anything worth talking about?”

“You wouldn’t believe,” Q said, rolling his eyes. They paused by the lift as Q scanned his ID card, and then stepped inside as the doors slid open. “A couple of the interns were helping me test a new type of ammunition and I suppose you could say it worked a little too well.”

“What got blown up?” Eve asked.

“Lab Three,” Q replied, and over the sound of the lift doors closing, he heard Eve laugh. “Crack in the ceiling severe enough that the Thames is dripping through. We have our most high-tech buckets on the job.”

“Did you put it down as a success or a failure?”

“Both, I suppose,” Q said, shaking his head. “I don’t know who we’re going to trust with them when the time comes.”

They reached their floor, and the dark hallways flickered into light as they stepped out of the lift. It was even quieter here, without the soft but noticeable hum of idling computers. They headed along the hallway towards Q’s lab, and he tried to ignore the tightening in his chest that worsened with every step.

“I hope things haven’t been as explosive on your end?” he asked, hoping his discomfort stayed out of his voice.

“Not quite,” Eve said, though Q thought she sounded a touch envious. “It’s been utterly _dull_ , if I’m honest. Just a whole load of shuffling meetings and the occasional enquiry thrown in there, if it’s a really exciting day. I would have thought that reorganising the entirety of British intelligence would be more interesting than this, but naturally it’s just a whole load of paperwork.”

“How _surprising_ ,” Q said, raising an eyebrow. “I never would have thought this great country would concern itself with so much paperwork.”

“We should fill out the relevant forms to complain,” Eve said, straight-faced, and she was relieved when Q cracked a smile.

Stepping into his lab, Q was painfully aware of how obvious it was that he was spending very little time there. Large gaps were present in the desk and shelf space, the items that belonged there scattered across several of the other workstations that Q divided his time between. He was almost embarrassed to see a thin layer of dust on some of his lesser used equipment.

“Wow,” Eve said, tugging her coat around herself more tightly. “It’s quite depressing, isn’t it?”

“Mm,” Q said, setting his laptop case on the ground and holding it between his feet as he put his coat on. He felt Eve’s eyes on him as he picked it back up again, going to his desk to make sure he hadn’t had anything important dropped off during the day. There were a few things there; he flicked through the pages and found nothing that couldn’t wait until later.

“Should I let M know you’ll be found elsewhere these days?” Eve asked. “Just so he knows where the agents can find you.”

“Might be worth mentioning.”

“You’ll be getting a new one soon, I imagine,” Eve said, and Q’s fingers tightened on the folders in his hand, crumpling the edges slightly. He forced himself to relax his grip, setting the papers down as carefully as he could.

“Oh?” he asked, keeping his voice light. He grabbed a pen and pulled a stack of Post-Its closer, scribbling over one as though making a note for himself. Anything to keep him from turning around. Whatever he could keep out of his voice would be on his face, he was sure of it.

“I don’t know who yet, unfortunately,” Eve continued. “But I imagine it won’t be long. Not now it’s been confirmed that the double-0 program is still on, anyway. For now. It seems every couple of years, someone’s trying to get it scrapped.”

“Yes, well,” Q said, now scribbling hard enough that he had torn through the first Post-It and to the one underneath. “The whole thing does tend to be rather unpredictable and often insufferable, a little like the agents themselves.”

His scribbling reached an almost frenzied pace, and he became aware of the fact that it couldn’t possibly pass for legitimate writing any longer. He left the pen fly from his hand, sending it clattering across the desk.

“Hopefully 007’s replacement will be a tad more reliable,” Q added, finally turning back to Eve with what he hoped was an expression of only mild annoyance. “Less of this gallivanting off around the world whenever he pleases, or – or just _fucking off_ after nearly costing me my job.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Coupled with the look on Eve’s face, all pity and concern, and Q could barely stand it. He knew he shouldn’t let himself say any more, that he should just quit while he was ahead, but the silence felt worse than anything he could say.

“Maybe that’s wishful thinking, though. They’re all the same breed, aren’t they? Entitled, arrogant pigs that think everything is a bloody game.”

He tried to keep his tone matter-of-fact, but failed and ended up sounding just as cold as he’d feared. Eve was still looking at him, her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and Q immediately wished he could grab the words and shove them back down his throat.

“Q,” she eventually said, when he could only stare at her, feeling nothing short of helpless. Her voice shook him out of it slightly, and he cleared his throat.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for snapping. It’s been a long week.”

“I thought it had been a busy few days,” Eve said, giving a small smile, and Q’s attempt to return it quickly crumpled. He turned back around and gripped the edge of his desk, his shoulders tense.

“Oh, Q,” Eve said gently, and Q shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he said again, but his voice still didn’t sound right. “I’m just still a little bit annoyed. I took a lot of risks, and I ended up facing a load of enquiries, and I even took a bloody _plane_ for him and he just vanishes off without so much as a thank you. I should never have given him the keys to that car. I should have told him to stick it up his arse.”

He paused, blinking rapidly. His eyes were stinging and he was thankful for the fact that his back was to Eve.

“I should have told him to stick a lot up his arse, really,” he said, absently running his fingers over the surface of a discarded circuit board. He had been working on it when James had shown up again; the surprise had caused him to drop it and he had never quite remembered what he had been doing. He was seized by the uncharacteristic urge to throw it, and he clenched his fist instead.

“Why didn’t you?” Eve asked softly, and Q sighed.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I did. He’s just impossible to say no to. Plus he would have gone and done it anyway, and at least if I was on board I could try and make sure he got back alive. It _is_ part of my job, after all.”

“He’s a good agent,” Eve said, her heels clicking as she came closer. Q wondered how spaced out he had had to be to not notice them earlier. “You were right to trust him, at least as far as the mission was concerned.”

“Oh, I know that,” Q said, finally turning to face Eve as she appeared at the desk beside him. “But I was stupid to think that we were on equal footing, and that he wouldn’t be alright with me getting the sack just so he could get what he wanted. And I _definitely_ didn’t think that he would just vanish right afterwards, and then have the cheek to come back and ask for the car and make me think that –”

He broke off, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Made you think…?” Eve asked, and Q sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Made me think that he actually cared enough about me to say a proper goodbye,” he said. “Or cared about me at all, really.”

There was a long silence. Q stared at his shoes until it reached the point where he couldn’t bear it any longer, and then he looked back at Eve, forcing a smile.

“Anyway,” he said, the lightness in his voice strained. “Why did you say you came all the way down here to meet me again?”

Eve, thankfully, allowed him the escape.

“It’s Saturday,” she said. “Pub night, remember? Though, if you’d prefer a different night…”

“No,” Q said quickly. “Tonight sounds fine. I could do with a drink.”


End file.
